


Silent Screams

by NothingImpossibleOnlyImprobable



Series: Jones Family Collection [5]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Flogging, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Pain, Whipping, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 04:32:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6939919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NothingImpossibleOnlyImprobable/pseuds/NothingImpossibleOnlyImprobable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Jones Brothers tale about the intervening years between their sale into servitude and where we saw them next in The Brothers Jones, mostly Killian Jones character speculation and development.  This will contain very dark themes in later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> While the first chapter starts off mild, it WILL get darker as it goes on. Heed the tags, they're there for a reason. 
> 
> This chapter written with the assitance of pirateowl.

“Killian, wake up, you’re going to be late!”

He groaned, his eyes definitely not interested in opening.  “Go away, Liam,” he muttered, words half slurred with exhaustion.  “I only got to sleep a few hours ago.”

Liam grabbed his shoulder and shook him roughly, nearly pulling him from the narrow bunk.  “Get up!  You can’t afford to be late again.”

“I’d rather another beating than getting out of bed today,” he said as he rolled over toward the wall.

Liam snorted.  “I doubt you mean that, not with the new master-at-arms we picked up before setting off last night.  You haven’t see this one, Killian.  He’s huge.”

“Doesn’t matter, Captain’s not going to enforce anything anyway,” Killian said, his voice muffled by the thin mattress.  “Old guy is almost in his grave, it’s a wonder _anyone_ listens to him.”

He heard his brother sigh loudly, and he turned over to face him, finally opening his eyes and propping himself up on an elbow.

“Look,” Killian added apologetically, “I’m not going to say I’m not jealous of you working with him in comfort and relaxation instead of swabbing decks and manning the sails, because I am.  But let’s be honest, the only reason he needs you with him is _because_ he’s barely alive anymore.  I’m just…”  He paused, struggling to find the words as his brain tried to wake up.  “I’m tired, Liam.  We’ve worked on this ship for six years now, and I just want to go-”

“Home?” Liam interrupted as he faced him, tucking his shirt in his trousers as he fixed him with a stern gaze.  “There is no ‘home’, Killian, not anymore.  You know that.”

“Yeah,” he said, his jaw clenching tightly automatically.  “I know.”

He was quiet a moment, watching his brother finish dressing, though he made no move to rise.

“I just want to be free,” he said softly, hating the childish weakness he felt on saying the words out loud.

To his surprise, Liam didn’t laugh, he didn’t even smile, just came over to their shared bunk and sat at the edge.  He put his hand on Killian’s shoulder, his grip strong and his eyes filled with a promise Killian desperately wanted to believe.

“We will, Killian,” he said earnestly.  “We’ll get out of here one day, and we’ll be our own men, free to travel the realms as we please, I swear it.  Just a few years more, brother, all right?”

Killian nodded slowly.  “All right.”

“Just promise me you won’t do anything stupid in the meantime,” Liam added as he stood, “like deliberately arriving late on deck for the third time in a row.”

Killian groaned again, falling back against the mattress.  “Fine, I’m getting up!”

* * *

 

Ten minutes later, he was still hastily buttoning his shirt as he climbed aboard the main deck.

“Jones!” an unfamiliar voice boomed from somewhere behind him.

He spun around and promptly froze.  The new master towered over him, his beefy forearms crossed over his chest.  Burke, he remembered quickly.

“Aye, sir,” Killian managed to croak.   _Bloody hell, the man **was** huge_.  No wonder Liam hadn’t wanted him to risk being late today.

“Up the lines with you,” Burke ordered, his voice as imposing as his body.  “You’re with Miller.”

Killian glanced up and found Jamie already clinging to the ropes at the topsail.  He liked the boy well enough, but he was still rather new, only a few weeks aboard.  It was hardly enough time to get to know him, or trust him, for the kind of work they’d never performed together.

“Sir,” he started respectfully, “begging your pardon but Jamie and I-”

Burke’s hand lashed out quickly, grabbing the front of his shirt roughly and pulling him closer, close enough to feel the man’s breath on his cheek.  Killian didn’t move, and he was sure he had stopped breathing.  “I gave you an order, Jones,” he snarled.  “Now go.”

He all but tossed the boy away, Killian nearly losing his balance at the sudden movement.  He hastily whispered a quiet, “Yes, sir,” before rushing off and making his way to the ratlines and deftly climbing toward Jamie, ignoring the trembling that seemed to have taken hold in his knees.

He stepped out onto the footrope, years of experience and muscle memory guiding his moves as he slid closer to Jamie.

“‘Ello,” the other boy said shyly, his cheeks flushing as red as his hair.  “Guess you’re stuck with me, eh?”

Killian smiled, hoping the small expression would help calm the rattled nerves he felt all through his body.  “Nonsense,” he said.  “It’s a good time to get to know each other a bit.”

He could see the younger boy physically relaxing at his words, and he felt his own heartbeat steady as well.  Anxiety this high up on the lines was never a good idea.

“We’re just checking the ropes and sails, right?” Jamie asked glancing around from their perch.

“Buntlines and gaskets, aye,” Killian supplied, moving toward the edge of the yardarm.  “And the blocks, if you can.”

Jamie blushed again.  “I don’t really know how…” he stammered quietly.

Killian grinned at him again.  “I’ll have to teach you, then.”

They spent the next hour in easy discussion about parts and pieces Jamie had no experience with.  Killian even found an untethered block he used to demonstrate the best way to rig a pulley.  The boy learned quickly, Killian had to admit.  He was young, no more than ten to Killian’s not-quite-fifteen, not much older than when Killian himself started, and he couldn’t help wondering what led Jamie to this life.

Before he could ask, he noticed the boy had gone silent, a serious look on his youthful features.

“What is it?” he asked gently.  “What’s wrong?”

“Do you think,” Jamie started hesitantly, stopping to chew his lip.  “Do you think Burke would really…”  He trailed off.

Killian ignored the shiver of fear he felt at the name, his first encounter with the large man earlier still bothered him.  He reached out, his hand touching the lad’s arm.  “Do I think he would what?”

“Some of the others said that he’s known for… hurting the boys, and pretty badly.”  Jamie’s voice was barely a whisper, and he had a hard time meeting Killian’s eyes.  “Not… not with the lash, other ways.  Do you think he would?  Do something like that?”

He didn’t know what to say.  Everything about the new master screamed excessive force and violence, and he’d only dealt with him for a moment.  The captain wasn’t a cruel man, he’d run a tight ship but generally treated the lads fairly in the years since Killian and Liam had been forced to join.  Lately, due to his advancing age, he’d been losing touch with the crew, and everyone knew it.  But surely he’d never hire a master-at-arms like Jamie described, would he?

“I doubt it,” he finally answered.  “And if you ever feel he is, come find me.  I’ll do what I can, if it ever comes to that.”

Jamie nodded, a small grin lifting the corner of his mouth.  “Thanks,” he said, and Killian couldn’t help feeling a rush of… protectiveness.   _Is this what it’s like to be a big brother?_ he wondered.   _Is this how Liam feels taking care of me?_

“Anytime, lad,” he said, a slow smile spreading as he reaches out his hand.  “Here, pass back the box, better get it tied down before-”

The words were barely out of his mouth when the piece of rigging slipped from Jamie’s small fingers.  He could only watch in horror, too stunned to cry out, his breath caught in his throat, as the wooden box tumbled down from their perch to the crash on the wooden deck below.

Just inches beside Burke.

It took a moment for the large man to realise what had happened, a moment in which Killian was sure he would never start breathing again, for the second time that morning.  He glanced quickly at Jamie.  The younger boy had turned pale and was trembling all over, his fingers shaking against the ropes that held him up so high, a dark wetness spreading across the front of his trousers, his eyes trained on the furious new master-at-arms.

“Jones!” Burke shouted from below.  “Get down here now!”

Killian looked down, his eyes wide with fear.  The large man had his hands planted on his hips, his face red as anger took over every part of his expression. He realized with a fresh wave of terror that Burke assumed _he_ dropped the box, and not Jamie.  

“Coming, sir,” he managed to reply, his voice trembling.  

He spared another look at the red-haired boy at his side.  He couldn’t tell Burke the truth, he _couldn’t_ , Jamie was so small, so scared, and, though he reminded Killian so much of himself at that age, the boy didn’t have an older brother to look out for him.  He made up his mind, determination replacing some of the terror that had filled him just a moment ago.

“Jamie,” he said quietly.  The boy looked up at him, fear written across his eyes.  “Come down, it’s not safe for you to be up here alone.”

“I can’t,” Jamie whispered, a note of panic creeping into his words.  “I can’t go down there.  Burke, he’s so angry.  I can’t go.”

Killian touched his arm gently, shoving the rest of his fear deep down, where he could deal with it later.  Jamie needed him, or he wouldn’t survive the trip down the ropes.  “I’m right here with you, Jamie,” he said as gently as he could manage.  His voice barely trembled, not anymore.  “You can do it.”

Tears sprang to the younger boy’s eyes as he shook his head.  “He’s going to punish me and I can’t-”

“He’s not going to hurt you, Jamie,” Killian interrupted.  “He thinks it was me, he doesn’t know.”

A moment of silence as Jamie turned his watery gaze back to him.  “You’d… you’d do that?  Let him think it was you?”  

Killian could only nod, afraid his terror would bubble up from where it was barely contained and betray any words he would try to say.  He’d been in trouble before, hardly a month went by without his too-quick tongue getting on _someone’s_ nerves, earning him a swift punch or kick on the fly.  He had even been flogged three times, though not in the last year, not with the captain’s health failing and his control of the ship going as well.  He’d have been flogged a few more times if Liam hadn’t stepped in, especially in the early years aboard when he was still getting used to the daily workings of a ship.  He wasn’t eager to repeat the experience, but he couldn’t let Jamie take the punishment, not as the first of Burke’s victims.

“Why?”

He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.  He was about to reply when Burke’s voice rang out again, barely contained fury behind the sound.

“ _JONES_!”

He held Jamie’s small hand tightly.  “Let’s go,” he said, and they made their way down side by side.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Co-authored by Ice_Cube44, who is amazing.

Six.

It was to be six lashes, with the cat.  The last time he’d been punished, he’d been considered young enough to be given his lashes as a child.  But now, at Burke’s discretion, he was to be whipped across his back and shoulders.  He watched, standing completely motionless as two crew members raised the dreaded grating and propped it against the bulkhead, the hand ropes dangling from it menacingly.

Killian wanted to throw up.

His entire body trembled with the fear that coursed through him, and he was grateful he’d sent Jamie running below deck the moment they climbed down onto the deck.  The boy didn’t need to see him like this, shivering in terror before the new master who already frightened them both.  He locked his legs as tightly as he could to hold his knees from shaking against each other, all while clenching his jaw tightly to keep from vomiting, his teeth aching with the pressure.

He couldn’t help noticing that Liam wasn’t there.   _Probably with the captain_ , he thought.  On one hand, he didn’t want to be the child who needed his older brother to hold his hand, but on the other, he was just... scared.

 _Stop it_ , he berated himself.   _Get a hold of yourself, you can do this_.

He knew it would be over quickly, he’d watched it done enough times to others, in far greater number than only six.  He’d seen men, strong and stoic, last as high as 15 or 16 lashes without letting out much more than a grunt of pain.  He’d witnessed the recovery first-hand, when Liam had gone under the lash in his place a few years back, for yet another fight he’d caused.  It wasn’t so bad, he knew.  Liam had been on his feet after a handful of days with hardly any complaints.

But the _waiting_ \- waiting for everything to be set up, waiting for his arms to be fastened in place, waiting for the first stroke to hit - the waiting was the worst of it.  He hated waiting, hated the fear that settled in him, hated the way his body betrayed him when he was trying so hard to be strong.

And, this time, he hated not knowing what to expect.

The previous master-at-arms, a man named Crossly, hadn’t been as heavy handed as he could have been, his lashes tended to land faster rather than hard; he was simply doing his job.  Burke, however, frightened him.  He looked strong, muscles rippling under his skin as he untangled the ropes of the cat, but it wasn’t just his physical strength.  He seemed… _violent_ , angry, and if anything Jamie had said on the rigging above was true, cruel as well.  Burke was brand new to the crew; the simple fact was that _no one_ had been hit by him yet.

Killian would be his first.  And that terrified him.

Burke looked up at him from the cording of the whip he held and grinned, something far more sinister-looking than a simple smile.  Or maybe that was just his fear, magnifying every aspect of the impending pain.  But he trembled harder nonetheless.

“Off with yer shirt, Jones,” Burke ordered.  “Be quick about it.”

Without a word, Killian unbuttoned his shirt, his fingers shaking all the while, and slipped it quickly over his head.  It fell from numb fingers to the wooden planks with barely a sound.  The dirty fabric was mesmerizing, and Killian couldn’t take his eyes off of the small hole in the shoulder seam.  Still a little bit too large for him, the shirt had been Liam’s before his, and one of the older boy’s before that.  

“Jones.”  The command to hurry was obvious.

Killian trembled, but stepped up to the grating, working on controlling his ragged breaths.  A chill raced down his spine as Burke stepped up next to him.  Forcing his muscles steady, Killian raised his arms over his head, his fingers just brushing the dangling ropes.  The older man reached out and grasped Killian’s wrist - beefy fingers encircled the bones of his forearm with room to overlap - and he squeezed, _hard_ , grinding the bones together as he yanked his arm even further upward.

Killian winced at the sudden jerk and stumbled, knocking into Burke as he did.  The master’s elbow lashed out and caught him in the ribs, pushing him back with a quiet gasp.

“Easy there, boy,” Burke smirked.  “We ‘aven’t even started yet.”

He felt the rope cutting into his wrist as Burke tied the knot, probably tighter than it needed to be, but Killian didn’t say a word as he tried to breathe evenly to slow down his racing heart.  He grunted softly as the other man tugged at his wrist, the rope secure.  With a quick pat on his forearm, Burke switched to the other side, tying his left arm above his head with the same ruthless efficiency.

As Burke finished, he leaned close to Killian, his breath hot and wet against his cheek as he whispered, “Scream fer me, Jones.  Scream nice and pretty fer me and maybe I’ll go easy on ye.”  

Killian couldn’t help the shudder that raced through him at the words, his pulse hammering in his ears in renewed terror.   _Jamie was right,_ he thought, the shivering in his muscles only worsening as the fear grew in his belly _.  He’s going to **enjoy** this._

He felt sick at the thought, but with that came another feeling, one not unfamiliar to him in his years of servitude.   _Defiance_.  He’d never been particularly _good_ at taking direction, especially when he disagreed with the purpose, the faded scars on his backside proof of his frequent misadventures with obedience.  And while he had no power over the circumstances of his life aboard this ship, he could take charge of his reaction to them, that was _his_ choice, probably the only one he ever would have while he worked off his father’s debt.  And if he couldn’t manage his own response, he would lose the only measure of control he had over his life.

Determination took over then, muting some of the fear that had rooted itself deep inside.  He could do this, he could keep quiet despite the pain.  He _had_ to, if he hoped to still have any sort of respect left for himself.  He wouldn’t give Burke the satisfaction of the cries he seemed to crave.

Killian took a steadying breath and let it out slowly.  He was ready.

Burke stood in position behind him.  Killian could hear the larger man shake out the lengths of cord, the way the tips brushed over the wooden planks of the floorboards, the creak of leather as the master tightened his beefy fist over the handle.

Killian pressed his forehead against the grating with enough force to leave a mark as he tried to relax all the muscles in his back and shoulders.  It would hurt more if he tensed, that much he knew.  The sounds around him faded out until all he could hear was the pounding of his heart in his ears.  Burke was ready behind him, but all Killian could focus on was the tightness of the ropes at his wrists and the cool breeze across his slim shoulders.

Then he heard it - the whistle of the whip as it cut through the air.

There was a moment’s pause after he heard the cords impact his skin when there was nothing - no pain, no noise, no feeling - and the absence of everything startled him.  

But then the white hot tendrils of fire assaulted his back with such savage intent that it was all he could do to bite back the gasp clawing its way up his throat.   Burke would see him bleed, there was nothing he could do about that until it was over.  But he wouldn’t hear him scream.  The master would _not_ get to draw that from him as well.

 _One_.

The air trapped in Killian’s lungs rushed out of him so quickly that he couldn’t breathe in again right away.  Tears stung the corners of his eyes at the frightening absence of oxygen and his fingers scrabbled around for purchase on _anything_.  He needed something to ground him, to focus him again.  His hands found the ropes and he held on tightly, the burn of braided hemp on his wrists the only pain he tried to focus on.

The knots of the cat raked across his shoulder blades a second time and Killian swore that talons were piercing through his skin.  He could feel the tails slither across his back, drawing molten lines of agony in their wake.  All he could do was shut his eyes against his tears, clenching his teeth together to bite back the cry.

 _Two_.

Burke left enough time in between lashes for the pain to crescendo.  Killian had no real concept of time, but the heat of the welts on his back continued to build until it was almost unbearable.  Salt stung his eyes as sweat began to drip down from his forehead, blurring his vision.  Shuddering gasps shook his shoulders, stoking the fire even higher as the movement pulled the skin taut across bone.  His muscles spasmed of their own volition.

And that was when Burke laid the whip across his back once more.

This strike crossed the previous welts and he was almost certain the lash tore open the skin as it dragged down his back.  Killian felt beads of wetness begin to drip down and soak into the waistband of his pants, whether blood or sweat, he wasn’t sure which.

 _Three_.

A wave of nausea surged up from his stomach and it was all Killian could do to swallow it back down.  Terror rooted itself in his thoughts, and he thrashed against the grating.  Instinct drove him to flee the pain that Burke was inflicting, but the ropes at his wrists held fast. He wanted to curl up in his bunk and sob into the coarse blanket. Killian wanted Liam to come, to stop this, to step in and take the last half of his punishment.  

Shame curled tightly in his gut at that, threatening to bring the bile to the surface once more.  He didn’t want Liam to step in, _he didn’t_.  But he wanted the pain to stop.  He wanted the shaking to subside, each tremor making his back hurt all the more.

He wanted to scream.

But he _couldn’t_ scream - he _wouldn’t_.  It was all he could do now, the only control he had, to hold back the one thing Burke wanted to rip from him.

The throbbing encompassed all of his senses, and Killian felt himself beginning to drift away from it all.  He was aware of how his knees buckled, scraping his face and chest down the grating, but it was no more than a passing thought.  There was a burning in his wrists as the ropes were now the only thing supporting his weight, but the inferno raging across his back drowned that out in an instant.  He could feel the grinding of his teeth as he choked down the whimpers and pleas that wanted to escape.  

 _Don’t make a sound_.  It was the only thought he could focus on.

The rushing sound of blood coursing through his veins obscured the whistle of the cat as it continued to fall.  Killian’s body continued to jerk as the last three lashes found their target - _four, five, six -_ but the buzz of white noise masked his awareness of the world around him.  His vision greyed out and not even the brightness of the sun or the dark contrast of the grate registered anymore.  

Killian shivered when the world around him was finally still. Trails of cool sweat dripped down his face in contrast with the fiery lines that seemed burned onto his back, the conflicting sensations sending violent shivers through his body.  He tried to lock his knees, to stand defiant against the pain, but his legs wouldn’t cooperate.  His fingers were numb from the punishing grip he had on the ropes, and they wouldn’t uncurl on their own.  His shoulders vibrated in distress at holding all of his weight.  And his back-

 _No_ \- no, he couldn’t think about the flames that still licked at his skin even after the cat had ceased its torment, he wouldn’t think about what kind of state his back was in after all that.  Not now, not when Burke was still so close.

Killian managed to drag his face away from the grating, resting his cheek there instead, the cool of the wood against his heated skin somewhat soothing, as something finally grabbed his attention.  It took monumental effort, but he managed to peel open his eyelids, terrified that whatever was dragging him back to awareness was intent on causing him more pain.

He almost gasped when familiar blue eyes so like his own filled his vision.  Tears welled in his brother’s eyes as their watery gazes met and held.  Liam was here.  Everything would be fine.

Killian barely registered his brother’s hands touching his wrists as Liam cut him down from the grating.  He saw, more than felt, Liam grasping his arm and pulling it across his broader shoulders.  His legs refused to cooperate, buckling the moment he was free of the ropes, but his brother held tight and didn’t let him fall.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, Killian,” he heard from somewhere farther than just beside him.

Somehow they made it back to their room, though Killian couldn’t remember any of the trip later.  He didn’t open his eyes as Liam helped him stretch out on the thin mattress, the hard bunk solid beneath his stomach.  He wasn’t altogether sure he was awake until the first dab of a wet cloth touched his raw back.

He hissed sharply, arching his neck against the flash of fire that raced from his brother’s touch, his fingers fisting in the flimsy bedding.

“Sorry,” muttered Liam quietly, his hand touching Killian’s head as he carefully pushed him back down to the mattress.  “Here, take a sip of this.  It’ll help with the pain.”

Killian felt a canteen tap his cheek.  His eyes still closed, he opened his mouth and let Liam tip some of the contents past his lips.  He nearly choked, the burn of the strong alcohol rushing down his throat.  He swallowed it, but only just.

“What is it?” he rasped weakly, eyes clenched shut against the burning in his mouth.

“Rum.  Another sip?”  Killian shook his head, the taste of it still lingering on his tongue.

“Just stay still, hey?” Liam said as he put away the bottle.  “I’ll try to be gentle.”

Killian tried, he really tried to be as quiet as he could, as Liam mopped his fresh wounds.  He knew that there, alone with Liam, he was safe to cry out, but something held him back despite the fresh pain that blossomed each time his brother touched his back.   _It’s still because of him_ , he realised, _still from Burke_.  Even nowhere near the man, Killian was still desperate to stifle his pain, as if somehow the master-at-arms would know just how much he’d managed to hurt him.

“Jamie came to tell me what was going on,” Liam murmured softly as he worked, his voice low in the empty room.  “I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”

Killian managed to nod, his eyes squeezed shut against the pain that continued to burn across his back with each gentle touch of the wet rag.  “It’s all right,” he wheezed out between clenched teeth.

“You didn’t have to cover for Jamie like that,” Liam said.

Killian’s eyes flew open, his eyebrow raised at his brother as he lifted his head off the mattress to face him.  “How did you-”

“Jamie didn’t tell me, if that’s what you’re asking,” his older brother said with a soft smile.  “I know you, little brother.  You don’t drop things, you haven’t since you were much smaller.”

Killian sank back onto the bed with a wince.  The cloth dabbed at his back again, sending sparks of pain racing up and down his back.  He closed his eyes once more and concentrated on breathing through it.

“What you did, Killian, I’m…”  Liam broke off with a sigh as he dipped the cloth into a pail of water and squeezed it out.  “I’m really quite proud of you,” he said finally, laying the wet rag across the welts.

The tears that Killian had been holding back for the last hour came rushing back, squeezing out from between his eyelids to trail down his face and nose before dropping to the mattress beneath him.  He didn’t try to stop them, this time, his brother the only witness - the only one he knew he could lean on when he no longer had any strength.  He felt Liam’s familiar fingers stroke through his sweat-dampened hair as soundless sobs shook his pained shoulders.

“It’s all right, Killian,” he heard Liam whisper.  “You’ll be all right.”

With his brother’s hand cradling his head, the pain of his wounds muted by the comfort of his only family, Killian drifted off to sleep.


End file.
